[A bit more housekeeping: all of the old haiku that lived in my sidebar. I’d given up on these even before switching to this new site, but would like to keep the record of them nonetheless.]

condensation formed
on my air conditioner
falls like summer rain

Te o uteba
kodama ni akuru
natsu no tsuki
– Basho

[I clap my hands
dawning in the echo
the summer moon]

“Mayonaka ya
Furikawari taru
Ama-no-gawa”
– Ransetsu

[“The dead of night.
Behold the Milky Way
Its situation is entirely changed.”]

“A lightning flash:
between the forest trees
I have seen water.”
– Masaoka Shiki

as spring flowers bloom
a time in my own life too
for new beginnings

early morning flight
en route to Park City for
Sundance yet again

not Jewish new year
but still a needed time for
cheshbon hanefesh

the first cold shower
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw
– Basho

trees release fall leaves
then through quiet months rebuild
to spring beginnings

working round the clock
principal photography
creeps up day by day

still barely springtime
yet sun beats hard as summer
on midtown lunch crowds

three years of haiku
have I started to run out
of topic ideas?

a b c d e
f g h i j k l
m n o p q

done with jet-setting
now en route to JFK
glad to come back home

the blog lies fallow
victim of cyan’s success
and my lack of time

so much work to do
yet too sick with winter flu
to be productive

one step into the
water, then one step more; soon
we’re over our heads

last autumn leaves fall
onto new york winter streets
as cold rain drizzles

how i love you Jess
totally adorable
yet totally nuts

jessica tells me
it’s time to change the haiku;
my last was ‘whiny’

jessica tells me
it’s time to change the haiku;
my last was ‘whiny’

like an idiot
re-sprained my ankle again;
it’s back to crutches

now a married man
my life goes on pretty much
the same as before

at just past midnight
i awake as, in her sleep
Jess punches me, hard.

twenty nine years and
still no fucking clue about
what’s going on here

hot as a sauna
muggy summer air descends
on Manhattan streets

with jess out of town
I revert to single life;
will my liver hold?

memorial day
new york’s pasty thighs first see
the cruel light of day

note to self: next time,
please, don’t even think about
opening a gym

brutal hangover
from drinks at Bungalow 8
much too old for this

passover begins
as do intense cravings for
all carbohydrates

burning the candle
at both ends, I can barely
keep my eyes open

fundraising again
why did I sign up to be
an entrepreneur?

on a plane again
feeling thankful I’m not a
traveling salesman

so much travel planned
by month’s end how will I still
recognize our bed?

back to the office;
after one day, how am I
already behind?

ball drops in Times Square
as on my nearby corner
new year swings to life

snow melts to puddle,
tracked by boot from city streets,
on the subway floor

first winter snowfall
whitens dirty New York streets;
I trudge towards home

five syllables here
next seven more on this line
then one final five

amtrak to new york
brown leaves still cling to fall trees
painting the window

still shopping for rings,
counting down to question pop,
surprisingly zen.

fundraising again
for Cyan; this is when I
wish for a trust fund

No time for blogging.
No time, in fact, for even
this haiku column.

Cool spring showers fall
washing clean the city streets
slowly, the sun sets

spring hyacinth buds
on my windowsill defy
dark storm clouds outside

first snowflakes falling
outside cool office windows,
gusts of winter air

Quiet apartment,
windows closed against fall air,
newly leafless streets.

late summer shower
gives way to gentle moonlight;
leaves begin to turn

On this Friday night
your ass damn better be at
Oh in Ohio

quiet June morning
winding paths through Central Park
dappled with sunlight

a Sunday morning
light streams in through my window
I dream, half awake

on my window ledge
small white seagull considers
the Hudson nearby

cloudy spring morning;
I lie half awake in bed,
stare out the window.

New striped boxer briefs
will tonight be field tested
in NYC bars

with so much to do
i sit and stare at my list
unsure where to start

after a few drinks
it seems I can no longer
count syllables

With younger brother
in town, my liver is sure
to greatly suffer

Spring begins to creep
back onto streets where winter
never took full root

Twenty-three inches
unceremoniously
dumped onto our streets.

Holy fucking shit
big things brewing with Cyan;
this all just might work.

Fundraising again,
constant toll of startup life.
Buddy, spare a dime?

New York’s winter air
swirls unseasonably warm
in through my window.

Back in NYC,
catching up on piles of work,
back to blogging soon.

Rolling green duffle
packed full to seams near bursting
for trip to Sundance

Ode to MLK:
the civil rights stuff was good
but the day off rocks.

Do you mind if I,
instead of going to work,
just go back to bed?

Sitting at my desk,
buried under piles of work
like winter snowdrifts.

Really, is there a
better appetizer than
pigs in a blanket?

A brand new side-blog
wherein I self-aggrandize
in perfect haiku